Death Sworn(42)

“Arcaians truly know how to dance,” Sorin said, shouting now over the sound of the music—and of the whoops of the others as they began to leap about on the floor. “Be glad you don’t know the words to this song, though.”

“Who says I don’t?” Ileni retorted. An assassin whirled past them, launching himself off the rock floor and tumbling over twice in midair before landing lightly on his feet.

Sorin rolled his eyes and took her other hand. His hands were fine boned, but rough and callused. He pulled her close with casual strength and grinned down at her.

He was closer to her than he had ever been. His hands moved to her waist, his arms encircling her with unyielding strength. She could feel his breath as he spoke. “Can sorcerers dance?”

She lifted her chin to stare up into his face. “I think you’re about to find out.”

Actually, sorcerers couldn’t dance—not in the athletic, graceful way the assassins could—but it didn’t matter. Sorin held her close and refrained from the complex acrobatics of the other assassins. They whirled around the cave floor, Sorin looking down at her with his lips pressed together but curved upward at the corners. The music worked its way into Ileni’s blood, and she moved to its beat without thinking, the fabric of her skirt brushing rhythmically against her legs. Exhilaration rushed through her, fueled by the music and the movement and the press of Sorin’s hands against her lower back. Every time he pulled her close, it felt like another draught of wine, making her reckless and giddy.

“Does your master know about this?” she asked at one point, when her cheek was inches from Sorin’s.

“Of course,” Sorin said. He pushed her away, twirled her around, pulled her close again. “But don’t worry. He never comes. He knows we need some small freedoms.”

Not true freedom, if he knows about it. But who was she to talk? She had chafed against some of her training restrictions, back in the sorcerers’ compound; she had even bent the rules, from time to time, to be with Tellis. Small freedoms, every one of them, nothing that would have scandalized the Elders had they found out. For all her little rebellions, she had been content to be what she was being molded to be.

And she didn’t want to argue with Sorin now. He grabbed both her hands, and she leaned back. As her hair flew out behind her, she scanned the cavern. She was still looking for Irun, but her eye fell instead on Bazel. The round-faced assassin was not part of the dancing. He stood in a corner, near the piles of weapons, small and furtive. Every once in a while, one of the other assassins would walk up to him, and Bazel would hand him something too small for Ileni to see.

Sorin followed her gaze and grimaced. “Would you prefer to dance with your favorite?”

“Why do you care?” she said archly, and then she caught his expression. It was pure scorn, without a hint of jealousy, and it felt like a slap. Ileni whirled out of his arms, taking him by surprise, and hurt flashed through her again when he released her without a fight. She stumbled, managed not to fall flat on the rock floor, and headed defiantly across the cavern in Bazel’s direction.

Sorin hissed something behind her, but the music was too loud to make it out. She didn’t care what he said, anyhow. He’d have a lot more to say when she did ask Bazel to dance.

She reached Bazel just as another assassin—a tall boy who wasn’t in any of her classes—was saying to him, in a lofty voice, “Being rather generous, aren’t you?”

“I’ll be getting more soon,” Bazel began, then stopped when he saw Ileni. The other assassin gave him a sideways look and glided away.

“Teacher,” Bazel said stiffly.

It occurred to Ileni that if she asked him to dance, he might say no. She could feel Sorin’s gaze, hot on her back, and abruptly changed her plan. “What are you giving out? Can I have a look?”

Completely without expression, he dipped a hand into the pouch at his belt and placed something small and square in her palm.

Ileni blinked, surprised at his compliance. Was she bullying him just as his classmates did? But then she recognized the dark object in her hand, and her mouth watered.

Compunctions gone, she popped it into her mouth and closed her eyes as she swallowed. The taste of chocolate lingered on her tongue.

“Where did you get this?” she breathed.

Bazel’s face closed. He stared past her stolidly, like a defeated animal waiting to be hit.

Sorin gripped her elbow from behind. Ileni looked up to see the sneer he aimed at Bazel. “Are you going to invite our teacher to dance?”